Theories Of Relativity
by Championship Vinyl
Summary: Hospital waiting rooms seem to foster an awful lot of flashbacks... The 'immediate family' reflects, one by one, on the first time they met Kate Beckett. SPOILERS for "Knockout," post-3x24, but not the way you think. Reviews are quite highly appreciated.
1. Javier

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**Well, I ended up doing another 'Knockout' fic after all - only, I didn't add it on to my other one because this one is a multi-parter. YES, it's yet another post-finale fic, but bear with me! This one's a little different. It's not Caskett-centric (though there will definitely be strong Caskett tones in the last chapter), and it's not Esplanie-centric (like I **_**usually**_** do) either. Rather, there's no defined 'ship' at the core of this at all. It's a team fic, based on Kate's reference to herself, Castle, Esposito and Ryan as "this immediate family." **

**Therefore, even though I could go on and on and recount every single character's first encounter with Beckett, I'm only going to cover the Immediate Family. There will be three chapters total, one for each of the three guys, in the order that they met her. (And I'm completely making these backstories up, except for Rick's, so just call it AU if you want, in case Marlowe fills in something different later. Hence "fan **_**fiction**_**," after all.) THERE WILL be a small hospital perspective/intro from each of them as well, but hopefully it's not too redundant to stuff you've already read around here. Should be at least **_**slightly**_** fresh, since I'm using three different guys' POV.**

**As always, I don't own Castle. The first chapter up is Esposito's Kate story. No more ado. Enjoy.**

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The fact that it was called a 'waiting room' was so obvious, it was borderline idiotic. Almost patronizing, somehow - as if the people who huddled in here from day to day weren't _already_ aware of the fact that that's all they were doing. Waiting. Helpless as a damn baby, and nothing they could do about it. No sense of control. Nothing left but to literally, agonizingly..._wait_. It was something Javier had never taken to very well.

People died, got shot all the time. You'd think he'd be used to it by now.

Being careful not to shift Lanie, he swung another weary glance up at the clock on the wall. 9:28 p.m. He wasn't sure how many hours that made, but it had to be getting up there. Esposito didn't even have to look left to see that Ryan was still perched in his own chair on the opposite wall, elbows on his knees, hands folded, staring at God only knew what. Jenny had arrived shortly after they did, and she was sitting beside Kevin now, rubbing his back in repetitive circles, whispering soothingly every now and then about how "Kate is a fighter" and "They'll patch her up, you'll see, I _know_ they will." Jenny was a good woman. The thought made Javier recall his own, and he turned his eyes down and to the right to check up on her.

Lanie had been one of the first responders at Kate's side, once he'd let her go, the premises clear of gunfire. She'd ridden along in the ambulance and _barely _let the surgeons stop her at the double doors; Javier wouldn't be surprised if she'd left claw-marks on the side of the gurney. Ever since, she'd been here in this room just like the rest of them, holding down the fort in her capacity as fifth member of the team. And God almighty, could the woman pace. Javier had had to pull out every last one of his best stops just to get her to sit _down_ - the whole pleading-eyes thing, three attempts to hold her hand until he'd finally succeeded, an inflection in his voice somewhere between '_Baby, I know what you're going through_' and '_Woman, don't argue with me_.' It'd been about half an hour now since the punchy M.E. had finally conceded, and within minutes, she'd dropped off into a light sleep, both her arms curled around one of his, her cheek against his shoulder. At this point, Javier was just glad he could be of some comfort in all this; hell, it went both ways, and she didn't even know it. He couldn't really ask for more than that.

She looked all right, so Javier was extra careful not to wake her as he brought his left arm around to pull a piece of her hair away from her eye. Small as it was, that was the only task he'd had for the last several _hours_. Then there was nothing left to do again. It made him both weary and restless, like caging a dog.

Felt like he hadn't breathed yet today. Exhaling a lungful, he snatched the police uniform cap off his head before tipping it back against the wall. A hell of a day like this seemed like it should've been _over_ by now…of course, that would almost be like implying that the world was fair. _Ha_. Staring at it, Javier turned the cap over in his hand. He _hated_ this uniform, hated having to put it on each time since he'd been promoted _out_ of it, years ago. Not the blue itself; it was what he walked those streets for…but the _reasons_. The reasons for putting it on again were never good, this one especially. Eventually he'd just grown to hate seeing it again. Every time his mind traveled back to _why_, it was like a dull knife in his chest. Every time. With Ike, it had taken years to go away, even when it was all proven a lie… He knew that this time would be longer. And worse. This time, nobody was kidding.

Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. It was Castle. The writer was still sitting alone in the row across from them, next to the seat using Jim Beckett's jacket as a placeholder while the elder man distracted himself with a coffee run. But Castle…for once, he was the focused one. Refusing to move, refusing to accept any coffee or a change of clothes or turn his thoughts to anything but Beckett.

And inevitably, that was right where all his trains of thought kept ending up. Beckett. Kate. Their friend. His sister in the badge; in practically every way but blood, come to think of it. All the options of her condition occupied his mind, only one of which he could even _begin_ to accept. There was only _one_ option, and the others didn't exist; not to him. All those other scenarios were just there uninvited - and despite it, were making themselves pretty damn comfortable - but unfortunately Javier wasn't immune, and he let his eyes fall closed. She _had_ to be all right. There wasn't another way out of this. She had to - she _would_ be all right. As long as Kate made it, they could hold together, and he kept on sending the silent prayer to God or the Captain or whoever was listening until he wasn't aware of it anymore: _It's Beckett we're talking about. Just let her pull through this one_. Gradually, the fluorescents above his head faded away to the blackness behind his eyelids.

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_The door with the nameplate was partway open, but his upbringing, his training and recent events were so well-ingrained that he felt compelled to knock anyway. He stepped into view, giving a quick, two-knuckled rap to the doorframe. "'Scuse me. Captain?"_

_The man behind the desk - a half-bald, solid-looking African-American guy in a tailored suit - didn't even need to look up to acknowledge him. "Come in," he granted. His voice was affable and resonant. "Siddown."_

_Shutting the door behind him, the younger man did as directed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his weathered bomber jacket. He took the leather-padded chair offered, only to stand right back up when the captain shut his folder and rose, trading a strong handshake._

"_Detective Javier Esposito?"_

"_Yes sir."_

"_Roy Montgomery. Good to have you aboard."_

"_Glad to be here, sir." To be honest, he wasn't exactly positive that was true just yet. All he knew was that he was glad not to go back to the Fifty-Fourth. Everything else was a trial-run from here on out. Simultaneously, both men took a seat. The captain folded his hands on top of the desk, taking a moment to study his new recruit quietly, and Javier warily let himself be studied. The man's gaze didn't exactly make him comfortable, but he knew better than to say so, and opted to keep a poker face on._

_Whether or not the older man saw what he was looking for, he didn't let on. Instead, he pulled a second folder toward him; Javier noted his own police picture fastened to the upper corner. "You're here right now, so I assume I don't have to tell you that your file is very impressive," Captain began._

"_No sir," Javier said indifferently._

"_Special Forces background, that's some solid experience, got to respect that… Expert military-grade weapons intel; Spanish-fluent, level two proficiency in Farsi, level one in Gulf Arabic… Experience in undercover operations, that's a given… Graduated early from Academy, top five percent in your class… Eighty percent closure rate with the Fifty-Fourth Precinct working Organized Crime." He glanced up. "Seems to me like you've been around the block for someone your age."_

_Javier knew all of that. He'd kind of been there. Waiting for a '_but_' somewhere, he watched as Captain Montgomery leafed casually through the folder with, more or less, his life story in it. Then, surprisingly, the man shut it, leveling with him eye-to-eye._

_Montgomery pointed to the bullpen through the office window. "Those people out there are some of the best in this town. Now maybe that's just my humble, very biased opinion, but our rates say we're damn close, if we're not there yet." The captain paused a beat. "I know what you been through, and I'm sorry to hear that. To lose a partner like that is a special kinda hell - and whether or not you choose to share that around is up to you. I wouldn't blame you myself, and I know for a fact you wouldn't be the first or the only one around here with a few skeletons in the closet." He followed the revelation with one more loaded pause. "But the fact is - yeah, you're young - but you're the one of the best where you came from. Now I'm gonna put you with one of _my_ best, and I expect no less from you on this job. Homicide's a whole different ballgame." Finally, the question. "Am I clear, Detective?"_

_The allusion to Ike's death bristled him, but Javier wasn't hearing anything he hadn't come in expecting, and he nodded. "Yes sir."_

Then _came the question he wasn't expecting. Montgomery raised an eyebrow, asking him, "You sure you're up to the task?"_

_Weird. It almost didn't sound like his new captain meant the _job_. Almost like it was genuine concern for him as a _person_. Javier wasn't quite ready to wrap his mind around that just yet. But he did answer, at least, even with a few more syllables than last time. You couldn't say he didn't try. "I am, sir. Never been the kinda cop to let a setback get in the way of the job. I can handle it; I'm just happy to have a desk and a gun."_

_The captain had a fatherly, off-center smile, and he used it then. "Good. That's what I like to hear." Javier was just about to dismiss himself when Montgomery turned to look past his guest's shoulder, toward the door. "You can c'mon in now."_

_Who can _what_now?_

_Javier twisted around in his chair, then stood up all together. A slim woman with a brunette ponytail stood in the doorway, her arms folded, leaning one shoulder against the frame. He ballparked her at twentysomething - actually, he was just about having trouble believing she worked here at _all_ when she came forward and extended her hand. They shook._

"_Detective Esposito, this is Detective Kate Beckett; she's on her way to being one of my finest Homicides. Beckett, I'd like you to meet Detective Javier Esposito, fresh transfer from the Fifty-Fourth. And your new partner."_

_Partner. So _that_ was the reason Roy looked oddly proud of himself. The eyebrows alone seemed to say '_Don't say I didn't warn you_.'_

"_It's nice to meet you," Detective Kate Beckett said. Obviously she'd been warned. Must've been nice._

"_Yeah, you too," Javier returned, but he was a little distracted at the moment. What was this captain doing? Assigning him some rookie? What, like some bullcrap re-immersion into field work? Before Javier had the chance to turn around and ask Roy over there for a word in private, the Captain was already waving them out of his office. _

"_Go on, you two get acquainted amongst yourselves. Oh, and Esposito - good luck. Welcome to the Twelfth."_

_Well. That was a '_Get out_' if he'd ever heard one. So much for a word._

_Looking to Beckett for some kind of cue, he found one when the female detective tilted her head toward the door, then turned and walked out of it. Javier followed, given that the option had pretty much been chosen _for_ him at that point. Awesome. They headed out into the desk-punctured open space of the bullpen, past a small cluster of officers in uniform - to which Beckett gave a "Hey guys, how's unemployment?" and they quietly scattered back to work - and came to a stop beside the only desk there without a nameplate. _

_Javier craned his neck around to get a look at the beat cops, mildly impressed, or at least surprised. "You're kidding. They actually listened?"_

_Beckett gave a half-shrug. "You'd be surprised." Hell, he already was. She laid a hand on top of the desk, empty except for a computer monitor and a cup of pencils. "This one's yours. Won't look like much just yet, but a few nights going over cold files and it'll feel enough like home."_

"_Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," Javier deadpanned. He gave the desk a glance, then raised his eyes to meet Beckett's. "Cold files. That what we do?" He gestured between the two of them. Call him crazy, but he hadn't really been looking forward to studying unsolveds when he'd signed up for this._

"_Oh. No." She shook her head. "Mostly they're pretty fresh. The cases, I mean. We've got a decent turnaround, so the cold ones aren't really common." For a second - just a second - Esposito thought he saw something flash behind her eyes. Something she was remembering, maybe. Something about the thought of there being unsolved cases that perturbed her. But then she was back, and he thought better to let it go than to ask. "I'm over there," she went on, pointing to her own desk, two back. "The one in between us here is Starling; don't bother him and he won't bother you. He's practically pre-retired."_

_Javier raised an eyebrow. "Pre-retired?"_

"_You know. One foot out the door," Beckett gestured. "Daydreaming of Maui. Or Miami."_

"_So, he's still here because…"_

"_The pension. Wouldn't you?"_

"_Ah." Esposito nodded once. Good point there. _

_But then he felt it. He noticed it - it was only a matter of time, after all. Was going to come up sooner or later. Beckett was studying him. Profiling, like any good detective would've - trying to figure out where he fit on the chain. Javier didn't shy from it, but he straightened almost unnoticeably; held himself taller out of habit. He'd was used to it, having been through this song-and-dance just about a thousand and one times before. Everybody always thought they knew him front-to-back with only a look. What his personality was like and how easy or difficult he was gonna be. Ninety percent of the time, they were wrong. Like _hell_ anyone 'knew' a damn thing about him. He should've known better than to put it past Beckett, too, and could only guess that the next thing she said would be the same old record._

_Then she opened her mouth, and it wasn't._

"_Anyway, come on. I'll show you where we keep the coffee."_

_And before he followed, Javier's eyebrows took a quick trip north. _Huh. Okay then.

_The breakroom - according to Beckett's "This is the breakroom" - was nothing special. Two walls of countertop, an off-brand Coke machine that looked pretty easy to rig, a coffee pot, and a bunch of typical posters proclaiming '_If a cop calls you asking for money, it's not a COP, it's a CON_.' Didn't look much different than the Fifty-Fourth, come to think of it. _

_He glanced around, hands in the pockets of his jacket. "Cozy," he commented. Sixty, maybe seventy percent sarcasm._

"_Here." Beckett handed him a mug, off-white, with the NYPD shield glazed on the side. "I'd mark it if I were you. Or bring one. Any coffee mug without a name is fair game to these people." _

"_You speaking from experience?" he smirked._

_A smirk of similar breed graced the female detective's face, but she declined a response, instead pouring some of the contents of the coffee pot into her own mug. She offered it to him with a tilt, and he nodded, taking it from her to serve himself a cup, sliding the pot back into the machine afterward. _

_It was all pretty run-of-the-mill until he actually took a drink of the stuff._

"_Jeez!" Sputtering, he practically choked the mouthful back into the mug he was holding. What _was_ this, some kind of sick hazing ritual? "Holy mother of shi - "_

"_You get used to it," Beckett spoke over him. _

_Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Javier looked up at Beckett, fully in disbelief that she could drink that crap and be so calm about it. There she was, leaning back against the counter, nursing a full mug with both hands to hide the grin that was spreading on her face. Oh, he saw it, all right, but she obviously didn't _want_ him to. There was something evil about that. He gaped at her for a second. "…Seriously? Oh, come on."_

"_Seriously." _

_He pointed at the coffee pot. "You put this here. Arsenic in it or something." Had to be. The stuff tasted like toxic waste, the bastard love-child of Starbucks and Chernobyl._

"_Nope." Beckett even took a drink herself. Must've had a steel stomach by now. "Like I said, you get used to it. After a while of having no alternative you just don't really notice anymore."_

"_Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it. Matter of fact, scratch that: I'll take your word for it." Javier set his mug down next to the creamer rack, deciding he'd rather _live_ another few years. _

_Beckett just shook her head and chuckled, taking another sip after a dry, "Hey, have it your way, tough guy."_

"_Thank you; think I will." Far as he was concerned, he'd had about enough of that for the next three lifetimes. Besides, there was something he was much more interested in. The question had been nagging at him long enough, and now Esposito folded his arms, leaning back against the table - _

"_Ass off the table."_

_- standing up straight and giving Beckett here a suspicious eye. "So what's your story?" he broached. "C'mon. Really."_

_Beckett only blinked at him. "…Why do _you_ need to know?"_

"_Cap'n told us to get to know each other, right?"_

"_I don't talk about my personal life," was all Beckett said. Hedging past him, she walked briskly back out into the bullpen, taking her nasty-ass cup of coffee along with her. For a moment, Javier just stood there…he definitely hadn't seen _that_ little display coming… Then he turned around and followed._

"_Hey, wait a second."_

"_We're losing daylight, Detective; we've got paperwork here that won't file itself," she said without turning._

"_Relax, it was just a question."_

_Finally, his new partner came to a stop, whirling around to face him so abruptly that he had to brake or risk toppling her. "Yeah, well, it's a question - " Beckett slapped a thick stack of folders into his hands " - that I don't answer." She paused, her green eyes staring him down from inches away, softening only enough for him to see the benefit of the doubt in there. Lot of regular doubt, too. "Remember that and we'll get along just fine."_

_Maybe it was just him, but Javier was starting to see how people respected the girl._

"…_Fine," he conceded. "Fine by me."_

"_Good."_

"_Isn't it though."_

"_And a wiseass, too, I like that in a trans-cop." God, she was starting to get irritating - running off one minute, mouthing off the next. Resting a hip against the side of her desk, now it seemed to be Beckett's turn to cross her arms and give the same, inspective look back to him. Javier almost had to scoff at the turn here. "And what about _you_, Javier Esposito, huh? If you're so interested in people's backgrounds, I'm sure you wouldn't have any problem sharing your _own_ - "_

"_You're dead wrong," he said, harsher all of a sudden. His eyes narrowed. So the girl was clever - well big freakin' deal. That didn't mean he was suddenly gonna let her go poking around in his life. She wanted to make her point? Fine. Point taken. "That's not a question. In fact why don't we just consider the subject off-limits. Okay? _Comprende_?" _

"_Perfect. Loud and clear," Beckett ground out._

"_Excellent. Glad we understand each other."_

"_Glad we do." That settled, the slighter detective plopped down at her desk, scooted in her chair, and wordlessly picked up a pen, opening a folder. She seemed perfectly content to have nothing more to do with him._

_Well then, score one for getting along with the new partner. Just as well. He didn't want a partner anyway._

_Knowing he looked as gruff as he felt, Esposito whipped off his leather bomber and threw it on the back of his new desk chair, sinking himself down after it. He dragged one of the folders toward him and got to work - the sooner he did what they paid him for, the sooner he could leave. He'd gotten just about halfway through the case report, familiarizing himself with the details, when he felt a shadow seep over the pages. Looking up, there was Ms. Congeniality._

_Javier sighed, and suddenly his eyelids felt heavy. "What do you want," he asked._

_Beckett let a few fingertips rest on his desk, looking down on him with what looked like a hint of apology there somewhere. "…You don't ask, and neither will I. Start over. No preconceptions, blank slates."_

_It just wasn't that easy for some people. Him included. Trust was a fragile thing like that: took a long, long time to earn. Javier gave her a look, part weary, mostly skeptical. "Yeah? And why would you do that."_

_With the slightest shift in glance, Beckett indicated the Captain's office behind her. "Montgomery's got eyes on us."_

_Subtly, Esposito looked up. Sure enough, the man had a stern gaze fixed on them both through the window. Hey, at least Beckett was honest. Blunt, even. _

_And Javier laughed. Seriously. Why not? He did have to work with the woman, after all. Might as well make the best of it as possible for a change. No place to go but up; either that or go crazy._

"_All right," he said, "Works for me. No more questions. Blank slates."_

_Beckett held out her hand to him, and he shook it, erasing the past five minutes. "Good. Welcome to the Twelfth Precinct, Detective."_

"_Thank you, Detective."_

_Slyly, they both risked a glance from the corners of their eyes - Javier knew she had because they'd looked at each other afterwards. Their little peace display seemed to at least placate the Captain; Roy returned his focus to his own work, and for a second - just a second, and he was pretty sure she never meant him to notice - Javier caught Beckett grinning a tiny little grin his way. Like they were the only two schoolkids with a secret, trying not to laugh and blow their cover. Even _more_ shocking, he couldn't help but return it._

_What the hell was the world coming to, anyway?_

_Before either one could say anything, a cell phone went off. It was Beckett's, and she pulled it from her hip; Girl Scout or not, she was all business. "Beckett."_

_Esposito watched her for any reaction as she listened. She had an unnervingly good poker face - it didn't give him much to work with, and he was left without a conclusion to draw until she finally hung up, tipping her head toward the elevator. _

"_C'mon."_

_He stood along, grabbing his jacket. "What was that about?"_

"_That was your first body," said Beckett, a hint of mystery in the near-smirk that grazed her features. "Let's hit it. I'll drive."_

"_I'm sorry, _you'll_ drive?"_

_Her amused laugh rang away down the hall. "Oh, this job is going to be pretty interesting for you, isn't it, Detective…"_

_Hey, he had to concur on that one._

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Several hours had gone by now. That was how it felt, anyway. Either the clock in the waiting room had stopped about an hour ago, or time itself had just stopped moving, period. Very little was going to surprise him at this point.

To his right, Lanie was still asleep. Jim Beckett had returned from his coffee run with not only a round of coffee for the wake ones, but a stack of spare blankets from the nurses' station, and Javier had gratefully taken one for her, draping it around her. She was cozied up under it now, snuggled up to the shoulder in both it and him. He was still awake himself, or was _now_, at least. It didn't matter if he'd drifted or not. No one's post had changed. No information had changed. _Nothing_ had changed. They were steadfast, the group of them. That was all they had right now.

With the free hand he had, Javier rubbed the film from his eyes that lack of rest had put there. It must have worked, because suddenly, he blinked them in double-time, making sure that the white-coated doctor heading their way was no mirage.

"Lanie," he whispered, giving her hand a jostle. She woke hazily, taking only seconds to orient herself before standing up to greet the man. Esposito stood with her. Jim and Rick stood. Ryan stood. They all stood, the group of them. Together. All watching in suspense as the surgeon regarded his clipboard, all waiting to breathe.

_I'll do anything. Take me in her place if you want to. Just say she's okay._

"Family of Katherine Beckett?"

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**Yes, I realize that was en evil place to end the chapter. And yes, I am going to end EACH chapter exactly the same way. Hey, the point was never to be a post-finale diagnosis fic: the point was to flash back to the Origins of Team Beckett. ;) So I figure that's a good common place to press pause. Hope you enjoyed Javi's POV - I adore his 'big brother' relationship with Beckett. They're so alike it's crazy. Makes me want to hug them both. ^_^**

**As I say on all my stories: if anyone (ages 14 and over) is interested in joining a free, written Castle RPG board, go give the bold paragraph in my profile a scan. The info's all there.**

**Liked this chapter? Excited to read the next one (Ryan's perspective)? Did you have a favorite part about this one? There's nothing I would appreciate more than if you would kindly review and let me know. It seriously does make my day to hear what you guys enjoyed the most out of one of these things, what your thoughts are, etcetera. Plus, every time you review, Castle gets renewed for another season. Y'know, so I hear. ;D XD**

**Thanks to all who're reviewing/reading. Next one's coming up. ^_^**

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	2. Kevin

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**As promised, in the (presumed) order in which they met Beckett, here goes Ryan's chapter. Let's get into that adorable Irish head of his, shall we? Back to the good ol' waiting room. ;D (I picture his flashback segment taking place about four months before the pilot, by the way.)**

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Kevin had always been pretty sure he liked the color blue. Ever since he was a kid, his mom had told him that it was his best feature - his eyes, that is. Always seemed to be the first thing people noticed about him, and he got on pretty well with that. In the Pre-K years, he'd always picked the blue crayon first. His first car had been blue - a definite fixer-upper, but a good car. Then there was the blue of the NYPD, and there was a deep kind of pride there for that, embedded from way back in his rookie days.

Now, today, sitting here in the same dress blues as the ones Beckett had bled through…picturing the crisp blue sky in his mind, reflecting in Montgomery's coffin, Beckett just staring up at it lifelessly, and the flecks of blue paint in the cold, sterile hospital walls… Now, he wasn't so sure. He was starting to think he could really go without it for a while. Blue, that is. Maybe he was becoming a 'green' guy.

No…green was grass. Grass was cemetery. That wouldn't work either.

Maybe the better option was just to close his eyes and drown out color all together.

Pushing out a sigh, Ryan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, kneading his hands together until the already-pale skin there turned to white. He knew that he was probably worrying Jenny with his behavior, with the way his eyes wouldn't really stick on anything or the way he was trying to strangle his hands before he strangled somebody else. He knew, but then again, he wasn't positive. Not of much of anything anymore. For all he knew, the jumble of thoughts going around in his head could've included elephants and circus clowns.

Of course, those parts really went without question, just, not _literally_. There was, in fact, an elephant in the room - that one was pretty obvious. It made him absently wonder who was the clown.

Finally, Jenny must've hit the end of her rope of watching him do that, because she stopped rubbing soft circles on his back and captured one of his overactive hands in both of hers. He looked up to meet her gentle green eyes, studying the pale freckles around them, knowing he looked sallow and sick and she could probably tell he'd been crying. Just a little bit, involuntary, a while ago when no one was looking.

"Kevin," she said soothingly. For a moment, it seemed like she hadn't had anything else to say, but she added more just before he could look down again. "From what I know of Kate, she wouldn't want you to lose hope," Jenny reasoned. She took a long pause, cracking a tiny smile at the end, all for his benefit, if there was any to be had. She'd give it willingly. "We're all here. Just a little longer."

She was trying. And God, how he loved her for that.

For Jenny's sake alone - and, maybe a little of Beckett's, even if it was cheesy - Ryan managed to find it in him for a small half-smile, and he squeezed her hand back. "Yeah. Yeah, I know." He was fairly sure, at least a hundred and twelve percent maybe, that no matter how much good he did in his life, he would never have enough good karma racked up to deserve Jenny. He was okay with that.

Right now, honestly, he didn't know how far down the barrel he'd be without her being here. Ryan leaned back against his chair and the wall, dragged a hand down his sleep-deprived face, and gave a surveying glance to the familiar others stationed in the waiting room. Across from him and to the right was his partner, Javier: the man had been nothing but stoic since the long-forgiven alley. Kevin knew him like a brother, and he didn't like the signs he was seeing. Outbursts, combined contrastingly with this ten-foot wall. That was another bomb waiting to go off. Ryan didn't fail to notice that his partner still had his arm around a light-sleeping Lanie, either. At least they weren't bothering trying to hide it anymore. A grim thought, but the hell with it: life was short, better to take whatever you could get.

Across from him and to the left was the rest of their odd little tribe, none of them even in law enforcement. Beckett's dad - or rather, a seat for him - next to Castle, elbows on his knees, staring at the patterned tile, unfazed by the occasional filtering in and out of his mother and daughter. Kevin watched this group for a moment the same way he imagined birdwatchers might observe a blue robin or two. They flitted, they moved around their central point, but the central point was fixed. That central point was Castle. In his way, Castle was making his _own_ stand.

Ironically by sitting.

And waiting.

They were _all_ waiting.

And where did that leave Kevin?

He was hardly the most important person to Beckett in this room. Sure, he knew the three of them - himself, Javier and Beckett - were kind of like siblings in the badge by now, but he knew he was more of the 'little' brother than anything. He didn't have _quite_ the history with her that Javier had, and he couldn't protect her like Javier could. Or tried to, anyway. No one was safe on this one. And neither of them, cops or not, could hold a candle to Castle. Hell, they hadn't even seen the sniper coming. Castle did.

But that didn't stop him from realizing he wouldn't be anywhere else. No matter how many hours he didn't go home, or the calls he had to field from the lobby, no matter what they needed him to do, he belonged here. Until there was news. For Kate. He closed his eyes, rhythmically stroking his thumb over the back of Jenny's hand. He'd camp here all week, if it came to it. He owed her that.

.

.

.

_The bullpen in Homicide really didn't look a lot different from the one downstairs in Narco. Or the one back in Vice, from his days as the uni probie breaking up high school parties. Come to think of it, they all pretty much looked the same. Except for the fact that his new team was up here. Somewhere. If he could ever find them._

"_Ah, 'scuse me." Ryan lightly snagged the sleeve of a wild-haired, dark-skinned woman dressed in detective-like attire before she could pass him by. "Can you point me to Detectives Beckett or Esposito? Heard somebody say the Captain wasn't in, so I figured - "_

"_Right over there," the woman pointed. Before Kevin could so much as thank her, she whisked off into a conference room._

_Blinking, he did anyway. "Thanks." Not that there was any point to it or anything. Taking a deep breath, he made his way toward the cropped-haired woman and the solid-looking Latino guy that'd been indicated, half obscured as they were by pillars and desks. The closer he got, he saw that they were standing in front of a whiteboard covered in case information, both with their backs to him, deep in conversation. Bickering or building theory, he couldn't tell which._

"_I still won't believe Craig's alibi until we confirm with the neighbor again," the woman was saying. Ryan assumed she was Beckett - hated to be a racial stereotyper, but come on: if the Hispanic guy wasn't Esposito, New York was on the moon. _

"_Oh, come _on_, you know as well as _I_ do that the neighbor's not gonna say anything different," Esposito shot back, staring at what looked to be a timeline. "This'll be what - the _third_ time we've questioned him?"_

"_And the more we do, the more likely he'll slip something up."_

"_Yeah, and the more likely they'll find a suicide note by my body."_

"_I think you'll live."_

"_And what about Marshall, huh? C'mon, his story's holier than Sunday at my grandmother's."_

"_But he was on camera at our TOD."_

"_Coulda been rigged?"_

"_Maybe, but I'm not betting on it."_

_Kevin let their banter, rapport, whatever it was, wash over his head and down the proverbial drain. Not that he wasn't already noting little patterns in their personalities - you never knew when that could help later - but he hadn't alerted them to his presence yet, and he used the opportunity to lean back against an empty desk and carefully study the whiteboard. Apparently this Marshall guy had all the motive, but a solid alibi for their time window…and Mr. Craig had plenty of opportunity and an alibi in his seventy-one-year-old neighbor. Sure, the elderly didn't tend to lie, but Kevin smelled an anomaly in there somewhere…_

"_All I know is we've got forty-eight hours before Craig gets past TSA," Esposito was saying._

"_You should really nab him on Murder One, then."_

_If Ryan were a true chicken, he would've probably regretted making himself known at that particular moment. Or with wit. Attempted wit. Both the other cops in his new team turned around to face him, not whiplash-fast, not painfully slowly, either. He wasn't sure if he would have preferred one or the other. _

"_You, ah…" Esposito grinned amusedly, glancing quickly to Beckett and back, reminding Ryan of Denzel as Frank Lucas in _American Gangster_ right before he shot somebody; Beckett only raised an eyebrow, smirking back slightly, waiting. Kevin tried not to think of brains on the wall or swallow too visibly. "You think you caught somethin' there, new kid?"_

'Kid_.' Seriously? Okay, he knew he looked a little young for this, but it wasn't like these two were collecting Social Security either. And here they had these titanic reputations as case-closing thug-eaters. Why did he always get that? Ryan cleared his throat, taking a step closer to the board. "Say Marshall really was indisposed at the time Ms…." He squinted to decipher the name on the board. "Crawford died. But he does want her dead - nobody breaks it off with Wade Marshall, right? So, let's say he's familiar with Mr. Craig. Marshall takes some of that money he funneled, pays Craig a pretty penny to play the semi-lucid old nanny-neighbor and get her to tell the LEOs whatever they wanna hear - meanwhile, Craig waits for Janet Crawford outside her dinner party and makes sure she won't remember dessert." Hands in his pockets, Ryan stood back, feeling proud of himself._

_Beckett and Esposito stared. They took their time with that, to the point where Kevin's bold confidence started to shrivel and eventually he wondered if they wouldn't just start laughing. Then they stopped looking at him, and, eyes widening, looked at each other._

_Beckett immediately uncapped a marker, re-arranging notes and pictures on the board. "If Craig and Marshall are connected, we need to run everything that pops up in their financials, in their habits, anything similar if it means they could've crossed paths."_

"_No rule sayin' it wasn't a hired hit," Esposito agreed._

"_We've been looking at them as separate possibilities this whole time and not as - "_

"_Accomplices."_

"_Exactly." Standing back to admire her new column, Beckett turned and threw Ryan a glance over her shoulder - he wasn't sure, but he thought she looked almost impressed. Couldn't confirm, though, as the moment was punctuated by the buzz of Esposito's cell phone._

_The detective pulled it from his hip with a brisk "Yo," listened a moment, then nodded once to Beckett and walked away to continue the conversation. And then there were two. Ryan fought the urge to rock back and forth on his heels a bit, now that Beckett had fully turned and was staring at him, wearing that same look again. He's heard bits and pieces of her reputation through channels, and told himself that the image of her unhinging her jaw and eating him was totally irrational. People gossiped like kindergarteners._

_One sculpted, slightly auburn eyebrow stayed arched as she gave him her once-over. Then she spoke. "That was…not bad. Not bad at all, actually." Oddly, she sounded more amused than surprised. Like someone had promised her this result and she was just now buying it. Kevin didn't reply, not yet, and Detective Beckett eventually offered her hand. "Kate Beckett."_

_Ryan was good with cues. He shook it heartily and briefly. "Kevin Ry - "_

"_Ryan; I know who you are. You must be the Narc transfer."_

"_Yeah. That's me."_

_She tilted her head at the board. "You ever work Homicide before?"_

"_Ah, no. No. I, ah…I have worked Vice, though, besides Narco…" Beckett didn't look that impressed with that. Vice was always kind of a joke with the guys in Homicide, he was never really sure why… Ryan moved on quickly, clearing his throat. "Anyway, my closure rate was the highest one there, I guess, so, when Captain Montgomery talked to my old captain and said there was an opening in Homicide, I - "_

"_It's okay." Beckett stopped him mid-sentence, and he wasn't dumb enough to try and keep talking. She looked friendly enough about it, almost like part of her wanted to laugh, but didn't want to seem rude. "Trust me, no one joins my team unless I've read their file synopsis. You're good, or you wouldn't be here." She paused, smirk growing by fractions, then casually shrugged. "And if you're not, you'll probably be dead by Tuesday."_

_Was that gulp audible? Kevin really hoped not. She was kidding. Right? Of course she was. Obviously she was kidding._

"_Besides," she added, and Kevin wondered if she'd been into hazing in college or high school. She was effortlessly good at it. Her smile grew a little warmer. "It's not really me you have to worry about getting along with." A cock of her head indicated the direction Esposito had gone in. "It's him."_

Are you kidding?_ The dude that could snap him in half. Yeah, _that_ gulp was probably audible._

"_Easy, tiger. He doesn't bite. Cops."_

_Kevin didn't realize his hand was resting near a pencil cup until he knocked it over by accident. "Jeez - sorry." He dove to catch rolling pencils before they could take sanctuary under any of the desks. "Got it, just…sorry." Okay, so one or two of them got away; it didn't mean his whole first day was doomed, okay? There were no omens. And even if there _were_, omens did not come in pencil form. _

_When he came back up, righting the cup on the desk, he noticed that Beckett was casually covering her mouth with her hand, trying to disguise a broad smirk. He scowled for a second, assuming automatically that she was laughing _at_ him, but something about her expression made him revise the theory, and he erased the scowl. She looked more…entertained. Even if she looked like she was trying not to admit it. That was something, right?_

_It had to be. He really didn't want to get on her bad side and have her shoot him or worse, have her sic Esposito on him. Ryan had the not-so-vague feeling that would hurt. A lot. He tried not to picture hospital beds._

"_So." He figured as long as they were standing here, he might as well strike up some conversation. And, also, try not to look like a neophyte or a doofus. Managing that would be a plus. "How long you been working up here?"_

_Beckett shrugged one shoulder. "Two years, almost, I guess. Came straight here from being a beat cop, so."_

_Kevin nodded. "And…Esposito, was it?"_

"_He's been with us for a couple of months, at the least. Transfer from another precinct."_

"_Yeah?" Call him a geek - Kevin preferred the term '_rampant consumer of information_.' He was into people's profiles. "So what's his story?"_

_But Beckett didn't seem to share that trait - she only flipped a shoulder again, looking away. "Ask him," was all she said on the subject, and then the door slammed down on it. Ryan nodded, rationalizing his mild disappointment with the consolation that he'd learn these things later. He already knew better than to ask Beckett for hers._

"_Right. Sorry."_

"_Don't be." Beckett might've been a closed book to outsiders, but Ryan could see she wasn't trying to be a bitch about it. Especially when, to his surprise, she tilted her head toward a doorway on the other side of the bullpen. "C'mon. I'll show you the breakroom."_

_He took it as a sign that he must've done _something_ right this morning, and followed her without hesitating. "Let's go."_

_She led the way, and he found quickly that the breakroom was entirely unremarkable. Looked a lot like the one in Vice, actually, but he was already the New Guy - he wasn't about to bring up the 'V' word. Again. He was new, not masochistic and stupid. He stood there feeling awkward for a few moments as Beckett poured them both a coffee, then accepted his with a grateful nod. Smelled good, anyway._

"_You'll learn to live on it," Beckett advised._

_Before he even took a drink, Kevin pointed to the mug. "This anybody's in particular?"_

_The female cop raised an eyebrow. "You thought I'd give you someone else's unwashed mug to drink out of?"_

"_Good point." Setting it down for a second, Kevin peeled a Post-It note from a cube that someone had left on the table, took a pen from his inner jacket pocket, and wrote '_K. Ryan_' on it, sticking it to the side of his mug. His Narc days had taught him that an unclaimed mug was like asking for mono._

Now_ Beckett looked impressed. "Quick study," she said._

"_Thanks." Ryan raised the mug for a victory drink…which turned out not to be that victorious. The bitter 'a-robot-peed-in-my-cough-syrup' taste sent him on a rather humiliating coughing jag almost immediately. _

"_Yeah, it does that," Beckett admitted, and he gratefully took the paper towel she held out. _

"_Thanks."_

"_Sure."_

_Ryan tried fruitlessly to pat off his tie, but he had a feeling it was already too late; the formerly neat blue-and-orange stripes were already staining brown and…browner. _Great_. Now he was the new doofus with the so-called-coffee splotches on his tie. Batting a thousand, here._

_He felt Beckett's eyes on him as he cleaned himself up, figuring she was just staring at the sheer number of ways he could make himself look totally incompetent within fifteen minutes of introduction…but when he looked up, she didn't look like that. She looked…contemplative._

_Basically she was already surprising him every time he turned around. Learning her was going to be a long, long process, he could already tell._

"_I'm not putting him up for adoption by doing this, you know," she began._

_Kevin wasn't following. "…Putting who up?"_

_Beckett nodded toward the bullpen. "Him."_

_Following her eyes, Ryan took a minute to get the point. He guessed he didn't look any less confused when he looked back at her. "Detective Esposito?"_

_She nodded, and he finally felt like he was getting somewhere. There was a good-sized pause from her before she went on, as if making sure he was all there, and when she did she was still looking away. "He's my partner. And he's good. Montgomery's been after me for a while now to get someone else on the team; most the people around here work in threes or fours…" Her eyes moved to meet Kevin's, and, where Kevin thought he'd flinch under the gaze, he didn't. "I'm not putting him up for adoption," she repeated. "I'm adopting _you_. Is that clear?"_

_Still wasn't entirely sure where she was going with this, but Ryan nodded anyway. "Yeah."_

"_Good." Then a small corner of her mouth gave into a smile, just barely. "In that case, I'd get familiar with your new partner if I were you."_

_New…_what_? "What?" Kevin managed. Definitely hadn't seen _that_ one coming. "But, you said - "_

"_I said the Captain's been bugging me to put a team together. Which he's been doing because he wants me to run lead on it. So, I said yes. Here you are. Any questions?"_

"_N…no. None at all." Well, _anything_ sounded simple when you put it like _that_. Kevin suddenly got the strong feeling that he was going to be taking a lot of spur-of-the-moment mental notes on this job. At least if he wanted to keep up. And he _would_ keep up._

_After all, Beckett seemed to think he could do it. Even with what little he knew of her, he could already read that she didn't give that out to just anyone._

_Well then. Time to prove himself worthy of being on 'the best team in the borough.' Not so hard when you thought about it. Right?_

_Beckett's smirk was knowing, not predatory, but there was a hint of something more there. Mischief, maybe. She walked toward the exit of the breakroom. "Welcome in, Detective Ryan."_

"_Yeah, thanks…"_

_And then she stopped in the doorway, one hand on the frame, her short hair flaring out as she turned back. "Oh - and be warned, he will haze you. Pretty viciously. Check your chair before you sit down, don't be offended if he double-checks everything you do through me for a while…oh, and start answering to the name Morris."_

"_M…Morris?"_

"_Just trust me." Ryan decided at that moment that that grin on Beckett's face could never be a good thing. She slid out of sight, then, back to the activity of the bullpen, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the awful, terrible, disgusting coffee that he would suddenly give anything to make Irish, stereotypes be damned._

_And then he grinned, widely, to himself. This was going to be fun as hell…as long as his partner didn't flatten him first. Maybe while he was here he could even learn a thing or two from this legendary Kate Beckett. Sounded fun indeed._

_Raising an amused eyebrow along with his coffee mug, Ryan got to work building up his immunity, offering cheers to nobody in particular. "_Sláinte._"_

.

_._

_. _

Somewhere in the interlude, Jenny's phone had gone off. It must have been on silent, and knowing her, she'd undoubtedly checked with a nurse first to make sure it wouldn't interfere with equipment. Ryan hadn't even noticed anything like that, but she was talking on it now, he realized, still holding his hand with her other, keeping her voice hushed in deference to the people around them.

"No…no, it's okay…well, we don't know anything yet. …All right. Well, I'll call in plenty of time if I can't come in tomorrow. Will that work? …Yes. Okay. Thank you Hailey."

After she hung up, she seemed to notice him looking at her for the first time. Jenny blushed.

"Oh. Did I…? Sorry."

Kevin shook his head, letting her know it was fine. He could use the distraction, even. "Who was it?"

"Work," she answered. "I told them it depended on how Kate's doing whether I go back tomorrow or the day after."

"What? Jen." That was not the goal here at all. Kevin pivoted in his chair, facing her as fully as he could in the tiny rib-pinning contraption he was sitting in. "I don't want you to be losing time at work for all this," he said quietly. "We can take care of this here, me and Javi and the Doc - we might not exactly know what _control_ is but we can handle it. Besides, God knows Castle's not gonna be going anywhere; he'll buy the _hospital_ if he has to. I don't want this to be any bigger of a thing for you than it's been already. What if - "

"Kevin." Jenny used the same kind, gentle, slightly admonishing tone that he'd heard her use on her cousins' preschool-age kids, and Kevin shut up. "They'll be fine without me for a while. I'll feel safer with you, and I'll feel a lot better if I can help."

"But - "

"I know Kate is like family to you," she cut in more quietly, laying her hand over his. "That makes her family to me too. She'll be okay, but in the meantime, there is no other place I need to be than here with all of you. And my mind won't change no matter how many circles you babble yourself into," she smiled.

One thing you could say about Jenny was that she'd learned fast what exactly to say to prove him beaten. Another was that she was a saint who just hadn't been recognized yet. Kevin simply nodded, having learned a long time ago when to quit with dignity, even if he didn't always _do_ it. "Yeah. Okay." He gave her hand a squeeze, then slid down as far as he could possibly slouch in his death-chair. And he thought. "You know she'll kick my ass for this when she hears about it," he said after a moment.

Jenny patted his hand. "I know." When he shot her an '_oh, thanks_' look, she chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be sure to tell her it was my idea to join the huddle. You did not once go looking for sympathy or ask me to stay or for any help at all in any way."

"You're good at alibis." Ryan swiveled his head toward her, looking her in the eye with an exhausted smile. "Thanks, Jenny."

She beamed back, and it made him feel a little better. "Anytime."

And then everyone else was rising - or rather, Espo was. The second his partner got to his feet, bringing Lanie up with him, so did Ryan, his eyes scrambling for the source for a millisecond before he saw the doctor. He was still holding Jenny's hand, and he was vaguely aware that she was standing up with him, not aware at all that he was gripping tighter, just staring expectantly at the man in the white coat that regarded them.

_Let her be all right; she's gotta be. We can't do this without 'er. Just…just tell us we'll get Beckett back._

"Family of Katherine Beckett?"

_._

_._

**Well, I'm happy with how that turned out. (I don't start out with a structure for these chapters, except for the endpoint: I just start typing and see where it ends up. ^^ ) That's two out of three - and let me just take this moment to say I want to hug Ryan on a regular basis. He's so adorkable. ^_^ The next and final one will be Castle, though I'm SLIGHTLY toying with - and ONLY toying with - the very vague idea of a possible fourth chapter as an epilogue. I'll have to see later on. No promises. Just look forward to the Castle one. XD**

**As I always say, if anyone (ages 14 and over) is interested in joining a Castle roleplay board, go skim the boldface paragraph in my profile. All info is there.**

**So, you know how much I love to hear from you guys. (Even if I can't always reply back, I read EVERY review, and I adore you guys for writing them. ^^ ) I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts, feedback, favorite parts about this chapter, if you can. It helps and means a lot to me, really. **

**Thanks to all you followers out there, and stay tuned for the final installment from Big Ricky himself. ;D**

_._


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